Lost Possessions
by Airmid Star
Summary: The conversation with Harry about Luna's lost possessions and the death as seen from Luna's point of view. One-shot.


_Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Hogwarts, Luna Lovegood, and the magic of this world are the sole creation of the phenomenal J. K. Rowling. I do not own these characters. I am merely borrowing them to explore the character of Luna a little more. _

All dialogue taken from Chapter 38: The Second War Begins, pages 862-864 in _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ by J. K. Rowling

* * *

It's once again the last night of the school term. It had been a very interesting year what with riding the thestrals, Harry's interview, DA lessons, the Department of Mysteries, and all. I opened my trunk to start packing when I realized that I was missing most of my things. I sighed. I was going to miss yet another end-of-term feast announcing Gryffindor the House Champion. I did want to see Dumbledore's speech about the return of Voldemort, especially if Umbridge was there. Instead, I would be looking for my missing possessions; it happens, I guess.

Back when I was a first year, I believed that I'd merely misplaced several of my belongings in a post-exam haze. In my second year, I thought that I'd lent them out to people who forgot to return them. Last year I overheard a couple of my fellow Ravenclaws call me "Loony." They thought it was funny to hide my possessions – it was there way of teasing me for my unconventional beliefs. I didn't terribly mind the joke until the last night of term when I needed to pack my clothes and books.

My things would return to me; they always did. I suppose part of me enjoys the attention – at least I am not totally overlooked. It's not malicious like the attention poor Harry Potter received this past year. I don't think my classmates wish me harm – if they did they would have taken all my underwear and the books I needed for revising. I know I am not the most popular of Ravenclaws, but I never desired that. Shrugging, I took out some parchment to make some notes that listed my missing items and a wish for their return.

With my signs completed, I began to walk the empty corridors of Hogwarts to post the signs on boards near the House Common Rooms. I'd probably have more luck with the Hufflepuffs and the Gryffindors than the Slytherins, but the houses could share a common laugh at my expense.

As I was fastening the last such sign to a board on the wall in the corridor near what I believe to be the Gryffindor Common Room, I heard footsteps behind me. I stepped back from the board and glanced around me to see who was there. I saw Harry standing in the hallway, looking as if he wanted to hide. "Hello," I said vaguely. Maybe he didn't want to talk, but that doesn't mean I should be rude.

Harry seemed a little disheartened and listless, but he replied, "How come you're not at the feast?"

"Well, I've lost most of my possessions," I explained, hopefully serenely. "People take them and hide them, you know. But as it's the last night, I really do need them back, so I've been putting up signs." With that, I gestured to the sign listing my missing books and clothes that I had just pinned to the board.

"How come people hide your stuff?" Harry asked, frowning. I rather thought that he felt sorry for me then. I suppose it does seem pitiful with people nicking my stuff and keeping it from me.

"Oh . . . well . . ." I shrugged, his pity catching me off guard. "I think they think I'm a bit odd, you know. Some people call me 'Loony' Lovegood, actually."

Harry then looked at me for a tad longer than necessary before responding. "That's no reason for them to take your things," he said rather flatly. "D'you want help finding them?"

"Oh no," I said, smiling at him. I rather think he is guilty of calling me "Loony." "They'll come back; they always do in the end. It was just that I wanted to pack tonight. Anyway . . . why aren't _you_ at the feast?"

Harry shrugged. "Just didn't feel like it," he responded.

"No," I said, observing him. His grief and overwhelming despair were quite apparent. "I don't suppose you do. That man the Death Eaters killed was your godfather, wasn't he? Ginny told me."

Harry nodded curtly, and I feared for a moment that I'd offended him by talking about the dead man. His death had obviously hit Harry very hard and left him wishing to be alone, forsaking even the presence of Ron and Hermione. It might be better for him to talk about it – maybe he just can't talk to his best friends who couldn't see the thestrals. Best wait and see, you know, follow his lead.

"Have you . . ." he began. "I mean, who . . . has anyone you've known ever died?"

That was an interesting question. Harry knew that I could see the thestrals. Perhaps this was his way of reaching out in his grief, trying to find some one to share the burden of losing a loved one.

"Yes," I said simply, not wanting to further burden him with more pity for me, "my mother. She was a quite extraordinary witch, you know, but she did like to experiment and one of her spells went rather badly wrong one day. I was nine."

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled.

"Yes, it was rather horrible." I tried to be light and conversational, for I had accepted her temporary loss. "I still feel very sad about it sometimes. But I've still got Dad. And anyway, it's not as though I'll never see Mum again, is it?"

"Er – isn't it?" said Harry uncertainly.

I shook my head in disbelief. Surely Harry knew that the dead wouldn't be lost forever. I knew I would see her again; it was that belief that kept me from feeling too sad over her death. Maybe if Harry thought that about his godfather, he wouldn't be so depressed. "Oh come on. You heard them, just behind that veil, didn't you?"

"You mean . . ."

"In that room with the archway. They were just lurking out of sight, that's all. You heard them." I said, trying to convince Harry that the dead were not truly gone, just hidden, much like my missing possessions. I don't have them right now, but that does not mean I will never have them again. What was taken from us will be returned eventually.

I looked at Harry, and he actually looked at me. I smiled slightly at him, hoping that he felt just a tad better. Poor Harry still looked quite confused, though. It was almost as if he wanted to believe but could not let himself. He probably does not want to be considered "Loony," I thought.

He interrupted my introspection. "Are you sure you don't want me to help you look for your stuff?"

"Oh no," I said, convinced he had better things to do then help me. "No, I think I'll just go down and had some pudding and wait for it all to turn up . . . . It always does in the end. . . . Well, have a nice holiday, Harry,"

"Yeah . . . yeah, you too."

As I walked away from him, I didn't hear his footsteps in the opposite direction immediately. I can only hope that the terrible weight he must be feeling lifted somewhat. Poor Harry, I don't envy him the attention he gets for something that happened before he can remember. I certainly don't envy the monstrous burden he faces as the archenemy of Voldemort.

Perhaps, I should have let Harry help me search for my things. It would have provided him with a distraction that he seemed to be seeking. I truly hope that he has a good vacation. I don't know how likely that will be with all the wizarding world's attention once again on him – both from the Dark and Light side of it.

Later that evening, my possessions started to turn up in places I knew I'd searched earlier. I found a couple of my books in the Common Room. After I collected those, some of my clothes were lying on my bed, waiting to be folded and packed in the truck. I knew they would come back to me. I smiled: that which was hidden does return. I hope over the break Harry is able to learn that as well.


End file.
